


Proving a Point

by indevan



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indevan/pseuds/indevan
Summary: It wasn’t because of his mother’s intense rules and timetables that Riddle wasn’t being included.  Riddle wasn’t being included because his classmates didn’t want to include him.  The thought followed him like a dark cloud
Relationships: Floyd Leech/Riddle Rosehearts, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	Proving a Point

Riddle was beginning to think that his classmates were up to something. Twice now, when he approached someone in his year, they would abruptly stop having whatever conversation they were having. The first was Jade and Azul and, if that were the only instance of this happening, he would have thought nothing of it. Those in Octavinelle were always up to something--especially that loping, grinning, aggravating Floyd. He had come up to ask Jade about their upcoming magical history exam and instead witnessed him snap his mouth shut mid-sentence as he approached.

The second time was between Ruggie and Kalim, which was surprising in and of itself. Ruggie often vocalized his annoyance with Kalim (and Silver’s) antics in their shared electives. Naturally, Jamil was nearby, his arms loosely crossed as he nodded along to whatever it was Ruggie said. Riddle’s business had been with Kalim--to remind him of the dorm head meeting during lunch time on Monday. Yet again, when he approached, all three stopped speaking. Jamil and Ruggie gave him fleeting, unconvincing smiles, but the usually bubbly and sociable Kalim looked away.

To say that he was getting suspicious would be an understatement.

On his way to the equestrian course for club activities, Riddle let the wheels in his head turn. Jade and Azul was a one-off but the empty smiles Ruggie and Jamil gave him coupled with Kalim looking away instead of his usual warm smile in greeting was something else. The second years were planning something and it was something that they didn’t want Riddle to know.

It was far from the first time that he wasn’t included in things. Usually it was because of his mother keeping him inside, keeping him from interacting with other children. She would speak distastefully about the sugar level in the Clover family’s pastries and say the rudest things about Chen’ya whenever she got the chance. This, though, was different. It wasn’t because of his mother’s intense rules and timetables that Riddle wasn’t being included. Riddle wasn’t being included because his classmates didn’t  _ want _ to include him. The thought followed him like a dark cloud as Riddle neared the stables.

He spotted Silver’s hair from a distance as he readied his own horse for club activities. Even seeing his fellow club member there early and getting ready to go did nothing to help his sour mood.

“Hello! Good to see you!”

It appeared that Sebek was also early. His booming voice carried all the way over to where Riddle was as he slowly approached.

“Lower your voice,” Silver said in a flat tone. “You’re annoying.”

At Riddle’s approach, Silver cocked his head to the side.

“Are you alright?”

It would be a stretch to say that he and Silver were friends. They were in the same club and in the same year, but that was the extent of it. Then again, he didn’t know what friends he really did have if he was being left out.

“Do you know about something the second years are planning?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Silver squinted his purplish eyes at him and frowned. It was a longshot if he knew anything, considering the detached way that Diasomnia students behaved.

“Yes. The party at the Savanaclaw common room.”

“Party?”

For a moment, Silver adopted a shocked expression. He pressed his palm to the side of his head.

“Get there at ten and  _ don’t _ tell Riddle. Oops.”

Sebek was a bit too far out of earshot--which made Riddle wonder just how loud he had been to have his voice carry so clearly over to him--which was good, because he wasn’t interested in refereeing another disagreement between them. Not when he had more pressing worries.

“Don’t tell Riddle?”

A party, and one he wasn’t invited to. Was it because it was after curfew? There were several Rules of the Queen of Hearts that dealt with being out later than what was allowed, to say nothing of the rules of Night Raven College itself.

“Yes, because of the drinking.”

_ Drinking? _ Oh, this was worse than curfew. NRC had strict rules about alcohol. Legal drinking ages were different everywhere. Back in the Rose Kingdom, it was only eighteen, but in the Land of Hot Sands, he knew it was twenty. In Pyroxene, it was twenty-one. Because of these discrepancies--and the fact that it was a school--alcohol was not permitted except during designated ceremonies and festivals. That his classmates were  _ illegally  _ obtaining and drinking alcohol was unacceptable. Riddle was going to have  _ all _ of their heads. He could feel his anger bubbling up. His face felt hot and he wondered if it was that embarrassing shade of red--the shade of red that Floyd always teased him about, the bastard.

He reflexively reached for his pen to punish Silver for his involvement, but then his hand faltered. The anger, which had been building up in him like a volcano, began to recede. This...this was why they didn’t invite him. They thought--no, they  _ knew _ how he was going to react. Riddle wasn’t included because everyone saw him as a rule-obsessed killjoy. Ace had called him a tyrant and he knew he had taken a big step back from being how he was, but...he still wasn’t someone people wanted to have around. The thought upset him far more than it should have.

“I have. No problem with that,” he said. Riddle felt his jaw clench as he said.

“You don’t?”

Lying wasn’t strictly against the rules. Even the Queen herself bent the truth on occasion, or so the history books said. That was what Riddle repeated in his head as he nodded his response to Silver’s question.

“Yes. So no one has to worry about me,” he said.

Silver scrutinized his face, screwing up his own as he did.

“Do you want to go, then?”

Did he? Riddle was upset about not being included, but did he really want to go to a curfew-breaking party where people would be drinking illegally? For the briefest moment, he had a flash to his childhood of looking out the window at children playing while he was locked inside.

“Yes,” he said, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. “I do.”

\--

Riddle wasn’t planning to drink. He was already giving himself heart palpitations when standing in the mirror chamber past curfew. At least he didn’t stand out. He thought that his dorm uniform was too flashy while his school uniform was too stodgy. Instead, he wore a t-shirt Chen’ya got him for his birthday last year and black jeans. He felt almost cool, or else he would if his heart wasn’t thudding in his chest.

Why was he going? Just to prove a point? That Riddle Rosehearts didn’t need to be excluded from fun. That he could  _ be _ fun?

Right. And one day, Vorpal was going to sprout wings and fly out of the stable and into the sky.

Riddle wiped his sweaty palms on the legs of his jeans. He should just turn around and go right back through the mirror to the Heartslaybul dorm. He would change into his pajamas, wash his face, and do his dental hygiene routine based on Trey’s suggestion (floss, mouthwash, and  _ then _ toothbrushing was his apparent secret technique). Right.

_ Or… _

Riddle let his gaze fall on the mirror that led to the Savanaclaw dorm. He chewed his lower lip for the briefest moment--it was a habit his mother hated and her voice still echoed in his head whenever he would bite his lip. He took one step forward and then another. When he felt the magic tickle over his skin, he knew he was past the point of no return. He stepped fully through the mirror.

He tried not to think too hard and simply let his feet lead him forward. If he stopped at all to think, he would hurry back through the mirror and be forever known as one who couldn’t be invited to parties. And, anyway, even if he didn’t go, was he not responsible for it? If Riddle knew about the party and didn’t tell Crowley, then he was just as bad, wasn’t he? He might as well show up.

His head was too full of thoughts and he was already at the entrance. He vaguely knew where the common room was. The last time he had been to the Savanaclaw dorm was all that nastiness with the Magift tournament. Luckily, he needn’t have worried about finding the common room. Once he was inside the dorm, he could hear the  _ thump thump _ of the bass resounding through the walls. Riddle followed the music as it grew louder and it eventually led him to the common room.

Savanaclaw’s lounge was nice. It looked a bit like a fancy resort with the dim, moody lighting and the waterfall in the center of it. The reflection of the lights in the pool made everyone look alien and beautiful. Riddle felt his heartbeat pick up speed again. Even if he had showed up, he still wasn’t part of this crowd. He barely hung out with anyone in his dorm, after all, except for Trey with occasional cameos from Cater or those two, calamitous first years who were rarely, if ever, apart.

It wasn’t a huge party, either. It wasn’t as if whoever threw the party (Ruggie, he suspected) invited their whole year. Every other second year dorm head was here, though, which still made Riddle feel funny in the pit of his stomach.

He felt a bit lost, really. Somehow it had never occurred to him until he was in the midst of the party that he had never been to a party like this. The Unbirthday Party was set due to the Rules of the Queen of Hearts. Every party he had had at home was carefully regimented by his mother. These kinds of parties without any supervision or rules where the goal was unclear were new grounds. Feeling a bit sheepish, Riddle shuffled into the common room and awkwardly perched on the edge of a vacant lounge chair.

Coming to the party was definitely a mistake. He wasn’t sure why he felt so upset about being left out or made out to be some boogeyman who people had to hide their fun from. By all accounts, it shouldn’t have bothered him at all. He was above everyone in his year in terms of marks and magic prowess. Yet here he was, sitting like a loser lost in the sea of revelry.

“Oh, shit.”

Riddle looked up to see Ruggie. He stood over him, one hand firmly on his cocked hip.

“Hello, Ruggie.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

He wasn’t quite sure how to answer him. His true reason was a bit too pathetic to say out loud, after all.

“You aren’t going to ruin the party or anything, are you?” Ruggie made a slicing gesture with his arm eerily similar to one Riddle knew he tended to make. “‘Off with your heads, fuckers!’”

Riddle shook his head.

“No. I...found out about the party and wanted to go.”

“Eh? Found out?” Ruggie whipped his head to the side. “Damnit, Kalim!”

“No, it was Silver.”

There was no need to get Kalim in trouble, after all. At least, not for something he didn’t do.

“Oh.” He cocked his head to the other side. “You really wanted to go? You?”

Riddle could feel his temper begin to rise. The familiar heat of anger percolated in his stomach.

“Yes.”

He could tell that Ruggie was scrutinizing him, and he couldn’t wholly blame him. Riddle pressed his lips together for a moment.

“Does Leona not care about the music waking him up?”

Ruggie seemed caught off guard but then he let out his typical  _ “shi shi shi” _ laugh.

“Nah. He only wakes up if you step on his tail. Usually when he’s out, he’s  _ out.” _

“Does he know about the party?”

“Of course.” Ruggie widened his eyes in a show of innocence. “Of  _ course _ I’d ask the dorm head before throwing a party.”

“Did you?” Riddle asked again.

There was that laugh again. It didn’t sound mocking this time, though.

“Yeah. He just said that he wasn’t helping me clean up, but. He never cleans up after himself, let alone other people so this is no different from normal.”

Yes, that sounded like Leona.

“Anyway, do you want something to drink?”

Ruggie tipped his hand out towards a cooler that rested on the ground that was close enough to them without being too close to the edge of the pool. He was about to refuse, but then he saw the slight quirk of Ruggie’s lips. He was backed by the supernaturally blue light from the pool and nearly in shadow, but he saw the smallest smirk. Ruggie knew his answer already. The mocking was back. His mother always lectured him on the looming specter of peer pressure. This was always theoretical, because she never let him spend time with any other children, but she pushed the ideals and fear of peer pressure into him. Ruggie was pressuring him without meaning to. He was operating under the correct assumption that Riddle wasn’t going to drink because drinking on campus was against the rules. And that wasn’t even getting into any other reason why he shouldn’t drink.

He stood up and lifted his chin. Riddle turned and walked to the cooler. He grabbed a bottle of something garishly pink in color that claimed to be flavored with strawberry and guava. He walked back to the lounge and sat down.

“I will have one, thank you,” he said.

Ruggie raised his eyebrows, somewhat impressed. Riddle fought back a triumphant grin and twisted at the bottle’s top. All he accomplished, of course, was scraping up his palm. His smile faltered as he fought with it.

“Here.”

Ruggie took the bottle from him and reached into his back pocket to extract a bottle opener. He popped the bottle open easily and handed it back.

“Right.” Riddle hadn’t really planned on drinking it, just holding it, but Ruggie wasn’t moving.

He brought the bottle to his lips and took an experimental sip, letting only the littlest bit of liquid past his pursed shut lips. It was...sweet. It didn’t taste bad at all. He had been under the impression that alcohol tasted bad. Once, Cater had come into the Heartslaybul common room with a hangover headache. He had bemoaned the taste of alcohol and wondered why he drank something that tasted so terrible. Riddle had considered taking his head off for drinking on campus, but Trey had convinced him that Cater’s hangover was enough of a punishment.

He opened his mouth ever so slightly to let more in.

“Ehh? Goldfishie is here and he’s drinking?”

Riddle nearly spat out the small mouthful. Great. He didn’t want to crane his neck up to see Floyd--Floyd who was undoubtedly wearing that sharp-toothed grin that seemed far too wide for his narrow face. Floyd seemed to guess this because he plopped on the lounge chair behind where Riddle was perched on the edge and splayed out his unfairly long legs. From the corner of his eye, Riddle could see that he had a cup instead of a bottle and whatever was in it smelled potent. He nearly gagged. Something like  _ this _ had to be what Cater had been drinking that resulted in his hangover. Ruggie, meanwhile, seemed to take this as his cue to leave. He gave a laconic wave of his hand before loping off.

This meant that Riddle was alone. With Floyd. Crap.

He sipped his drink experimentally. It still tasted sweet and not at all like alcohol.

“Who told you about the party?” Floyd asked.

“Silver.”

With Floyd, he tried to keep his answers short. He never knew when he would strike with his usual brand of teasing. He never knew what he would do, ever. He was unpredictable and sometimes confusing. He spent more time than he was willing to admit wondering why he acted as he did. Once, in the library, one moment Floyd had been teasing Riddle about a book on a high shelf and the next moment he was incredibly mopey and had simply walked off.

“I wanted to tell you, but Jade and Azul said not to.” Floyd tipped his cup to his mouth and Riddle noticed him wince slightly as he swallowed. For some strange reason, that was nearly endearing. Or as endearing as Floyd could be.

“Oh.”

“They thought you’d rat us out to Crowley.”

“No, I got that.”

Riddle took a longer pull from his bottle. Briefly he wondered if he simply had juice. He examined the bottle, squinting to read the narrow white writing on the bottle in the gloom of the lounge. Near the bottom of the label he saw the alcohol content percentage. Ah.

“Why did you want to tell me?” he asked.

“Because I wanted Goldfishie to go. Duh.” Floyd tipped his head back and gave an open-mouthed grin that showed off every one of his sharp, nearly serrated teeth.

“Why?”

There were plenty other people he could tease even if Riddle seemed to be his favorite target.

“‘Cause I wanted to see you.”

He wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Riddle corked his mouth with his bottle and drank more. It was gone too soon and he figured that he proved his point. He had shown up, he had had a drink of alcohol. He was  _ not _ a loser killjoy obsessed with rules. Somewhere he was sure that his mother suddenly sat up in bed, feeling sick to her stomach for reasons she couldn’t explain, but he felt kind of. Good. Liberated, almost.

“Do you want another, Goldfishie?”

Did he? Riddle fiddled with the corner of the label on his bottle. He peeled it down a little and frowned. He felt fine. One more wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“Sure.”

Floyd leaned in far too close and rested his pointy chin on Riddle’s shoulder. His breath smelled like that awful concoction he had in his cup and a bit like fish. Riddle wrinkled his nose, but he didn’t shove him away.

“Strawberry guava,” he read. “D’you want something stronger?”

“No.”

“‘Kay.”

Floyd swung his legs up in the air and propelled himself upwards. A bit too much ceremony for just walking a few short feet over to the cooler. He returned a moment later with another bottle. The liquid in this one was a bit redder than his previous drink. Sure enough, the label instead declared that it was a strawberry daiquiri.

“I thought Goldfishie would like this one,” Floyd singsonged.

He sat back down and took a sip from his cup that was still held in his other hand. He handed the bottle to Riddle.

“You need a bottle opener.”

“Eh?”

Floyd put his cup down on the ground and pried the cap off of the bottle with relative ease. Riddle wasn’t sure why the sight of that made him shiver. It was probably his close proximity to the pool and the fact that his previous drink had been chilled by the ice in the cooler.

“Here you go!”

Riddle took the bottle and took another sip. This one was sweeter than his first drink and he decided he liked it. He knew, deep in the recesses of his mind, that he was going against everything he stood for--breaking curfew, drinking, being around Floyd--but a growing part of him was kind of exhilarated. It was probably the alcohol.

Floyd eventually drained his cup full of something rancid while Riddle drank his second bottle. When it was finished, he carefully lined it up next to his first one and declared he wanted a third. Floyd snickered before he got up once more and returned with two bottles. Another strawberry daiquiri for Riddle and something mysterious and blue-green for him.

“They match us,” Riddle blurted without thinking.

He quickly corked his mouth with the bottle. He really liked the way these tasted. And, anyway, he was very nearly old enough to drink back home. Right?

_ Right, _ he answered himself.

Riddle figured that it was probably due to the alcohol, but he found himself very nearly enjoying Floyd’s company. He was on his best behavior--which was probably suspicious--and smiling at laughing at everything Riddle said. Then again, Floyd had been drinking when he stumbled upon him sitting on the lounge so maybe that was why.

He finished his third drink and leaned down to put it with the others. He missed and the three empty glass bottles toppled and rolled a bit.

“Oops!”

Floyd gave him a quizzical look. “You okay?”

It wasn’t until he said that did Riddle realize that he was swaying side to side slightly.

“I’m fine,” he said, but his upper lip was sticking to his teeth a little as he talked.

Floyd’s mismatched eyes widened.

“Goldfishie! You’re drunk!”

Riddle scoffed. “I am not!”

“You are!” He wore that annoying grin again, but the effect of it was buffered by the sickly sweet alcohol in his system.

“Am not! And, anyway, so are you!”

“Eh? No I’m not.”

Floyd got to his feet and wobbled a little. He crashed back down on the lounge, nearly making Riddle fall off.

“Oh. Heh. Maybe a little.”

Riddle carefully got to his feet. If he was tipsy--which he was  _ not-- _ he really ought to head back to his dorm. He had long since proven his point anyway.

“I have to go back to my dorm.”

Floyd’s mouth made a funny turn as he rubbed at his shoulder with one hand.

“By yourself? Can you even make it?”

“I’m not that--the percentage written on those bottles was not high!”

He didn’t look convinced.

“Well, with someone Goldfishie’s size…”

Riddle tried to thump him but he misjudged where Floyd was and overbalanced himself. He fell forward and landed face first on Floyd’s lap. His face flaming--more from embarrassment than anger--he leapt back. He expected Floyd to say something but all he did was stand up along with him. He clearly took his time rather than jumping up, because this time he was only slightly unsteady on his feet.

“I’ll walk you back,” he said.

Standing and facing him, Riddle realized that this was the first time he had seen Floyd dressed casually. Like Riddle, he wore a t-shirt and jeans. He wore a dark green flannel open over the t-shirt and Riddle thought that it would probably look like some kind of bathrobe on him.

He thought about arguing that he was perfectly capable of getting back to Heartslaybul by himself, but something in the haze of his brain stopped him. He squinted at Floyd and frowned.

“What are the chances of you shutting up until you get your way?”

“Slim to none,” Floyd said, wearing what Riddle knew to be his cheeky grin. “C’mon.”

Riddle couldn’t really argue and, in all honesty, the room  _ was _ getting kind of hazy. That was the only reason he let Floyd wedge one hand under his arm and lead him from the common room.

\--

It took far longer than it should have to make it through the mirror to get to Heartslaybul. First, they went through the wrong one and ended up in Scarabia’s dorm by mistake. Riddle mumbled an apology to Kalim and Jamil who had apparently left the party to suck on each other’s necks on the walkway that led into the dorm proper. Thankfully, neither of them noticed him or Floyd even after the latter cried out “Otter! Sea Snake!” in an obnoxiously loud voice.

Finally, they made it through the right mirror and got into the dorm. Floyd insisted on walking him to his room, and he let him because it was easier to get on. And...he wasn’t hating Floyd’s company. He was a good time when they were both tipsy.

“My mom is going to kill me if she finds out,” Riddle told him once they were in his room.

He stepped out of his trainers and carefully lined them up next to his school shoes and dorm boots. Riddle smiled at himself, proud that he still had his faculties to nicely arrange his things.

“Eh?”

“She’s very...strict.”

“Oh. My mom’s a loser,” Floyd said.

Riddle scrunched up his face in confusion. A loser? He’d never known anyone with a loser mom anymore.

“At least she used to be. I dunno about now. Me and Jade have been living with our dad since we were ten.”

After he said it, Floyd adopted that same kind of mopey, distant look he had in the library after Riddle had compared him to Jade. He figured it was best to drop it. Instead, Riddle opted to stand on his bed in his socks.

“Hey, if I do this, we’re nearly the same height.”

Floyd looked a bit surprised, but not terribly so. Being so unpredictable himself, he was probably used to abrupt subject changes. He walked up to the bed and, sure enough, he was only slightly taller than Riddle now.

“Hey, you’re right, Goldfishie.”

Riddle bounced a bit on his mattress. He had never done this before. He was sure the Queen of Hearts had something about jumping on the bed but what he had had to drink had made his fervent memorization of her rules temporarily leave his head.

Instead he took the time to look at Floyd’s face. He was actually kind of good looking when he wasn’t grinning like a shark (or a moray eel, as the case may be). His face was narrow and he had a pointed chin and, this close, Riddle could see a small line indenting the tip of his nose. And his eyes...the olive green and the brilliant gold. Even the green eye had a bit of gold around the pupil.

“Hee. Goldfishie’s drunk.”

Of course he had to ruin it by opening his mouth. Riddle put his hands on his hips, ready to give a proclamation, but then Floyd surprised him by putting his hands on either side of his face. Standing like this, he realized that they were close. Incredibly so. If Riddle pursed his lips, even a little, they would meet. The thought made his body all shivery again like at the party.

“I am not,” he said, his planned proclamation instead coming out in a sort of breathy whisper.

“Are so.”

And then Floyd kissed him. He kissed him and Riddle kissed him back. After that, things got a bit blurry but it didn’t really surprise him that they woke up in bed together the next morning.

\--

Riddle groaned, grabbing at his head as he did. His mouth tasted awful and was dry as sandpaper. His head hurt but not in a terrible way--he definitely didn’t feel like he had to hobble around in sunglasses as Cater had that one morning. It was acknowledging this--as well as the cramped, chafed feeling of having fallen asleep in jeans--that kept him from immediately springing out of bed when he registered that Floyd was in it with him.

“Get out!” he screamed instead.

Floyd lifted his head groggily, his bang hung diagonally across his face, looking like it was separating it into two halves in a harsh black line.

“Eh?” he mumbled. “So loud…”

Riddle rolled away and tumbled to the floor, taking the majority of the duvet with him. Floyd peered over the edge of the bed.

“You okay?”

“No!” he bleated. “You...I...ugh!”

“Nothing happened,” Floyd said cheerfully. “So why are you worried?”

Riddle fought his way out of his down-filled cocoon and sat up angrily.

“Queen of Hearts rule six hundred and fifty-seven!”

“You say that like I know what that is, Goldfishie.” Floyd pouted.

“You can’t spend the night with someone with unclear intentions.”

Riddle needed water. And a shower. And Floyd  _ out _ of his room.

“I made my intentions pretty clear last night, ne?”

The memory of Floyd kissing him--of him kissing  _ back-- _ interjected into his mind. Okay, that was fair.

“Well, get out anyway! I have to go shower.”

He was thankful that they had no school today. Riddle didn’t know what he would do if he broke curfew, drank, kissed a boy,  _ and _ was late for class all in less than twenty-four hours.

Floyd didn’t look like he wanted to move so Riddle got up from the floor and walked over to the door. He threw it open and gestured to the hallway. Floyd finally peeled himself from bed and sorted his sneakers that he had kicked off last night. Riddle watched him slowly lace them up before languidly getting to his feet and walking towards the door.

He stopped at the doorway and swooped down to give Riddle a kiss. He gaped at him. It was one thing to kiss him when they were both drunk, but in the harsh and sober light of morning? Riddle was only slightly more surprised by the fact that the kiss wasn’t wholly unwelcome. He had to admit to fancying Floyd a little, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have had his first kiss (and his second, third and eventually tenth before he stopped counting) with him if he didn’t.

“See ya later, Goldfishie. It was great sleeping with you.”

What fondness he had for Floyd was quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Get out!”

With a strange cackle-giggle hybrid, Floyd left his room. Riddle stared after him a moment before he realized that he was being watched. He turned to see Ace and Deuce standing in the hallway. Judging by their teacup saucer-sized eyes, they had clearly overheard his and Floyd’s conversation.

“You heard nothing!”

Riddle shut his door on them. On the other side, he could hear the two first years scrambling away as fast as they could. He rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and began gathering his shower supplies to take with him.

_ Well, if nothing else, I proved my point, right? Riddle Rosehearts is not a rule-obsessed loser. _

“He does, however, need water,” he mumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter at @smugsnail!


End file.
